


Sherlock Holmes : Worlds' only consulting Warlock

by allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet (orphan_account)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shadowhunter John, Warlock Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes, worlds' only consulting Warlock, needed a flatmate. This was a dilemma that he confessed to Mike Stamford, a young Shadowhunter from the main London institute. He was certain that there was no one in their right mind who would want to be his flatmate. Who would be mad enough to flat share with a Warlock?<br/>-<br/>Mike paused, considering. "You know.... there's no Law that says you have to live in the Institute. You'd have to stay close, but you could find your own place. Get a flat share or something."</p>
<p>John raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Who'd want me for a flatmate?"</p>
<p>A light went on in Mike's eyes and he smirked smugly. "You know, you're the second person to say that to me."</p>
<p>John frowned in thought for a minute before deciding. "Who's the first?" He asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is co-written with @not-a-princess-but-a-queen on tumblr. It started out because I wanted to read a Shadowhunters X Sherlock crossover but I couldn't find any out there, so I decided to write one myself. The RP is still continuing between us and is a w.i.p

Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only Consulting Warlock, was bored. There had been no clients today, and talk among the downworlders had died down to a buzz. The young warlock thrived off chaos and was drawn to danger like a moth to a flame. It was as Sherlock was seriously considering shooting the wall of the flat he rented, that he received notice from Magnus Bane about Valentine’s uprising.

A murderous ring leader ordering a hunt of all warlocks? Excellent; the game was on! He knew, however, that despite this being the most excitement he’d had in months, he would also have to move to a new flat. There was no doubt in his mind that Valentine was already aware of every Warlocks' current location, and it would be safer practice to move, at least until Sherlock had the resources to bring Valentine down for his crimes.

He knew that Mrs Hudson, a dear old lady whom he’d helped out a few years prior, owned a block of flats. There was of course one problem; he needed a flatmate. This was a dilemma that he confessed to Mike Stamford, a young Shadowhunter from the main London institute. He was certain that there was no one in their right mind who would want to be his flatmate. Who would be mad enough to flat share with a Warlock?

* * *

 

John Watson woke with a start, nearly bashing heads with his sister. He sighed and pushed back in bed before clearing his throat. "Morning sis," he muttered rubbing at his face.

Harry raised an eyebrow before narrowing her eyes at him. "When did you get in?" She asked sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Late last night, got a portal into the Institute, and ran into Mike. He told me where to find you," he said rubbing absently at his left shoulder where the muscles were tensing. "I took the bed since your couch was occupied."

Harry hummed. "There's coffee in the kitchen. I need to get dressed for work."

John nodded and made the walk to a very tiny kitchen. The coffee pot was half full and a cup already set aside for him. Taking a seat at the small table, he waited for Harry to exit the bedroom. He'd finished one cup and was filling another when Harry exited, wearing a waitress' uniform.

John's eyes fell at the barley there scars of stripped ruins before flitting away and focusing on his coffee. "I got your letters. I was out for about three weeks. I'm...." he trailed off not knowing what to say.

Harry turned from the coffee pot to silence him with a glare. "Save it. It wouldn't have turned out any differently had you been there. It wasn't just that I refused to marry. They caught Clara and me."

John's brow furrowed at the mention of her Parabati before smoothing in realization and sorrow. "Oh Harry," he muttered.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever. Like I said, it wouldn't have changed if you were there. Just don't tell them where I am if that ask. Which I doubt they will. Here's a key," she handed him a spare from an empty jar on top of a shelf above the stove. "Lock the door on the way out."

She made her way to the living room to dig for her purse, kicking an empty bottle of gin out of the way as she did so.

John sighed flexed his hand under the table. "I don't have a phone yet, it was broken in the attack but I'll be back latter tonight," he said as she found her bag and threw it over her shoulder.

"Take the one in the dresser in my bedroom. You can have it, I have another one," she said as she made her way out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

John shook his head and downed the rest of his coffee. He grabbed the key and shoved it into the pocket of the pants he'd been wearing yesterday. Thankfully he wasn't wearing his gear then, as that would have been uncomfortable. He picked up the phone from the bedroom, and frowned. It had been a present from Clara a year ago. Shrugging he shoved it into his pocket as well and made his way out of his sisters flat.

It wasn't long before he got back to the Institute and officially reported being back. Thankfully both of his parents were out so he only dealt with Mike Stamford, a good friend and college. He had filled out paperwork and reports on the Greater Demon attack on the Mumbai Institute that he'd been a part of and sustained injury in.

Once that was done, he and Mike took a break for lunch, and made small talk.

"I can't say that I'm upset the parents aren't here when I get back. They're going to be even worse, after Harry," John muttered.

Mike smirked. "You haven't been here with them 24/7 since it happened, consider yourself lucky."

John huffed. "That was the best part of my job, not being here. And now, here I am again."

Mike paused, considering. "You know.... there's no Law that says you have to live in the Institute. You'd have to stay close, but you could find your own place. Get a flat share or something."

John raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Who'd want me for a flatmate?"

A light went on in Mike's eyes and he smirked smugly. "You know, you're the second person to say that to me."

John frowned in thought for a minute before deciding. "Who's the first?" He asked.

* * *

 

 

St Bartholomews hospital hid more than met the eye. It was a facade used to keep the mundanes unaware of the down worlders and the demons that threatened to destroy their world. Beneath this fake building lay London’s main Shadowhunter institute, and it was here that Sherlock found himself summoned. No sooner had he received word from Magnus about Valentine, he was also contacted by Molly Hooper, who wanted him to come at once to inspect a corpse.

When he arrived in the mortuary, he was fascinated by what he found there, and immediately intrigued by the connection between the corpse and Valentine’s uprising. For splayed out on a slab was the remains of a Forsaken. The Forsaken were once nothing but dull mundanes, said to have gone insane after receiving runes that their physical body and mind could not handle. That mindless, insane rage that encompassed The Forsaken was what fascinated Sherlock so much. He could only imagine what the inner workings of a mind like that would be like.

As he circled the corpse, eying up its grey and peeling flesh, he questioned Molly. "How fresh?”

"Just in. I knew him…I think. He seemed nice before…”

“Fine.” Sherlock said dismissively, ignoring Molly. “I’ll start with the riding crop.”

“Riding crop? You’re a Warlock. I thought you’d…I dunno…use some magic to see who left the marks?”

“Dull,” Sherlock sighed. What was it like in people’s funny little brains? “It’s obvious this forsaken one was sent by Valentine. Besides, my riding crop possesses magical qualities.”

“Oh?”

Continuing to ignore the young, skittish girl he made his riding crop appear out of thin air, with a flourish of magic. This caused Molly to jump in response, wide eyed. Sherlock’s eyes rolled on their own accord. Honestly, it was as though the Shadow Hunter hadn’t come in contact with a Warlock before.

Sherlock then began to flog the body of The Forsaken repeatedly with his riding crop, taking his frustrations and boredom out on it. Even with the uprising of Valentine, and the opportunity the body was offering to him, he still struggled with keeping his intelligent mind occupied. It was sometimes so hard being him; his mind racing like a train on a railway, never stopping, never faltering, always needing some kind of distraction.

“So, bad day was it?”

Sherlock ignored the banter, not wanting to participate in the conversation she so obviously wanted to initiate. Instead he concentrated on writing his findings down on his notepad. " I need to know how the composition of the runes changes. It could be vital in confirming when this forsaken was created, and thus leading to the place Valentine is creating them. Text me."

" Listen, I was wondering: maybe later, when you’re finished … "

Sherlock glanced up across to Molly as he continued scrawling his notes down, appeared to do a double take, then frowned at her.

“Are you wearing lipstick? You weren’t wearing lipstick before.”

“I, er, I refreshed it a bit.”

She smiled at him flirtatiously, and he noticed. Unfortunately for the poor Shadowhunter, women weren’t really his area. He gave her a long obvious look, then went back to writing in his notebook. It was best that he ignored the girls advances, or else he would only encourage her. “Sorry, you were saying?"

“I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee?”

Sherlock made a low humming sound in his throat as he popped his notebook away. “Black, two sugars, please. I’ll be upstairs. I have business with the Watson family that I have to attend to."

“Oh…okay."

He walked away from Molly hurriedly, feeling a weight leave his chest as soon as he was out of the door. He was not sure why so many women found him appealing. Perhaps it had something to do with the allure of magic? Either way, he did not want to encourage young women, young Shadowhunters at that to throw themselves at him. Besides, even flirtation from male company right now would prove to be a distraction, as he was far too focused on hunting Valentine down and ending his reign of terror on all downworlders. He was married to his work, so to speak. Besides, who would be interested in maintaining a relationship with him? He was an arrogant, self centered, Warlock who also self proclaimed himself as a high functioning sociopath. No. He couldn’t imagine anyone truly wanting to be with him on a long term basis.

As he approached the second floor of the institute he spotted Mrs and Mr Watson talking in the lobby, looking very stony faced. As they were the couple in charge of the institute they had requested an update on The Forsaken. Straightening out his suit so that he looked presentable, he walked over them. He held out a hand in an act of common courtesy and shook hands with them. “Sherlock Holmes,” he introduced himself. “Molly Hooper invited me here to take a look at your unwanted guest.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two young Shadowhunters walk in. One of them he recognized immediately as Mike Stamford. The other one was tall, well-built, and had an unmistakable mop of blonde hair. The boy was without a doubt a Watson, and was so handsome that Sherlock had to physically force himself to turn back to the boy’s parents. Had the boy been related to any other Shadowhunters, he would have perhaps held his gaze for a more inappropriate amount of time, but the Watson family were powerful and held the key to the institute. He did not want to accidentally do anything that disagreed with them. Without that access Sherlock would find it harder to carry out his work. That’s all that mattered right now; the work. At least, he had to remind himself of that, as the young boy began heading in their direction. If his heart beat faster in his chest, he tried his damn hardest to ignore it.


	2. Chapter 2

John followed Mike back into the Institute, glancing around at all the busy people. Most of them he knew, but it seemed like a few had been transferred in recently. He was distracted from his thoughts by a shout of his name and a pair of arms latching around him. Grinning he glanced down at the curly haired child who'd clamped onto him.

"Hello Archie! Been behaving while I was away?" He asked, with a small grin. Archie was an orphan from the Scotland Institute who'd been sent to live with them when he was around 4. He would be almost 10 now, John thought with some shock.

"Yes sir," Archie agreed, looking far too innocent.

Mike snorted from beside him. "He set the kitchen on fire last week," he muttered, but his face was more amused then angry.

Archie let go of John and shrugged. "I was trying for the speed rune, not fire."

John frowned. "Archie, those ruins look nothing alike," he chided. He couldn't help but smirk though. It'd keep his parents on their toes at least. "I'll go over them with you later tonight if you want, but shouldn't you be at weapons training now?" He asked, glancing around for Sally Donavan, their weapons master.

Archie nodded. "It starts in five minutes, I was on my way to the training room when I saw you and wanted to say hi!"

John smiled, bending down to the child's level to give him a brief hug. "I'm glad you did. We'll catch up later though, alright. Get to class."

Archie nodded and scampered off as John stood, barley managing to hide his wince as his still healing wounds protested. He glanced at Mike and they started making their way back through the Institute. As they neared the hallway, he saw two familiar figures and tensed. His parents were back then, he thought with a sigh.

As they approached, he realized they weren't alone and started to relax a bit. At least they wouldn't lay into him right away then. They came up to the small group and his father turned to him with a small grin. "Hello son," he muttered as his mother continued talking with the stranger, not having noticed their presence.

John gave a quick smile back, standing at parade rest, taking in the tense atmosphere of the room. "Father," he muttered. "Mother," he nodded as his mother finally turned her attention to him.

"You're back then," she noted. "When did you get in."

"Late last night," John replied. He was tempted to mention Harry but didn't dare with the others present. Instead he glanced toward the stranger for the first time. He was tall and lean, with dark curly hair and captivating eyes that John couldn't identify the color of. Glancing quickly away and licking his lips he turned back to his parents. "What's the issue now?" He asked.

"Have you heard of The Forsaken? You're a Watson, so naturally I expect your knowledge of such things to be vast." Sherlock scanned the boy, deducing that he was still recovering from injuries. "But never mind that. You've been in a fight with a Great Demon I perceive." 

John eyed the stranger with a frown. "Yes," he affirmed. "How did you...." he trailed off and shook his head. "And I've heard of Forsaken, but they aren't usually in the city. Is someone making more?" He demanded glancing between the stranger and his parents.

"Valentine." Sherlock confirmed the young Shadowhunters' worst fears. "He sent a few here, but not to worry. They're currently laid out on a slab in the mortuary."

"Yes," Mr Watson cleared his throat. "We summoned Sherlock here because he's a Warlock. We thought that he would prove useful considering our current situation."

"I heard something about that while I was healing. I was hoping it was just the Lightwoods being paranoid," John sighed. He glanced between his father and the man, Sherlock, apparently. "Thank you, for your help," he said sincerely.

John was about to speak again when they were interrupted by one of the new transfers alerting his parents to another message from the New York Institute. They both excused themselves and made their way to their main office. John watched them go with a sigh and relaxed his posture a bit.

He turned to the Warlock with a small grin. "John Watson, since we haven't been properly introduced," he said holding his hand out.

Sherlock shook hands with the Shadowhunter firmly. "Sherlock Holmes, and I know who you are."

John raised an eyebrow at that but shrugged, glancing to Mike, who was watching both of them with interest. "This is who I was telling you about John," the Shadowhunter said with a nod.

"Oh?" John exclaimed, interested. "Are you still looking for a flatmate?" He asked, turning to the warlock.

“Obviously, or else Mike wouldn’t have mentioned me.” Sherlock stated bluntly, but not unkindly. “I have my eyes on a block of flats stationed not too far away from the institute."

John nodded and hummed thoughtfully. "Can I look as well?" He asked. "It's rotten timing all things considered, but it's really for the best if I don't actually live here," he said.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly took it out and saw a text that declared it was Harry and asked John to find where their parents had put her things and to grab some of it for her. He quickly texted back that he would and turned his attention back to the Warlock who'd yet to answer. He was watching John intently, his gaze heavy. It was a little unnerving, but not entirely unwelcome to John. He licked his lips and glanced back down to shove his phone back into his pocket.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. I presume that won't be a problem? Potential flatmates ought to know the worst about each other."

Sherlock regarded John calmly, his eyes sweeping over the Shadowhunter, observing and deducing. The boy didn't seem like a Watson. He was not like his parents. Sherlock could tell that John was kinder and did not look down his nose at Downworlders. He would make a rather amicable flatmate. He would also prove useful as an inside contact to the London institute. He hoped that John wasn't put off by his bad habits, or cold personality. Most people were, which is why Sherlock had never flat shared before. Up until this point he lived alone. Alone protected him. But perhaps all that was going to change...

John grinned and shook his head. "Not a problem for me," he chuckled. "I have nightmares most nights and I'll probably be up early as a result. I also don't like speaking before my first cup of coffee or tea," he admitted his own weaknesses with a shrug.

Sherlock was about to open his mouth and reply when a group of Shadowhunters passed them. Sally paused and glanced at Mike and John, ignoring Sherlock. "Emergency meeting," she told them and gestured for them to follow.

Mike shrugged and gave Sherlock a friendly wave goodbye while John waited for the group to pass before turning to Sherlock. "I should go," he admitted. "Just tell me where we're meeting and I can be there tomorrow at 7," he said, turning to the Warlock.

"The address is two two one b baker street." Sherlock replied. "Perhaps you ought to sleep on the idea. I'm not sure your parents would approve of you flat sharing with a Warlock. Especially a Warlock such as myself. I may be useful to the institute, but alas they do not approve of me." 

John smirked and shook his head. "Yeah, they're set in their ways for the most part," he admitted. "I'll think of something, don't worry. I have a feeling we're about to need all the Downworlder help we can get, it won't be a problem me going to your place," he said. "I'll look it over and give a day or two to decide."

He glanced around to find most of the other Shadowhunters had made their way to the conference room. "I better get going," he said. "I'll send you a fire message if something comes up but otherwise I'll see you tomorrow. You know your way out, right?" He asked, just to be sure.

"I've been coming here since before you were born. I'm sure that I can manage to find the exit. But before I go...I'd like to heal your injuries. It won't take long then you can be on your way."

Sherlock beckoned John closer, lips twitching into a smirk.

John debated internally for a moment, none of the other Warlock's he'd seen had been able to help him. He'd resigned himself to just waiting out the rest of the injury to heal. He had a feeling that if anyone could help him though this Warlock could. He nodded and stepped closer to the Warlock.

"It's my back," he said. "from the left shoulder to my right hip," he admitted.

Sherlock nodded and he un-tucked John's shirt, so that he could push his hand up onto the bare skin below. He found the wound with ease and caressed it, frowning when he realised how severe the wound was. He was determined to heal the wound to impress the young Shadowhunter, so he persevered, and used his magic. Blue flames flickered from the tips of his fingers and slowly but surely the wound sealed and smoothed over.

However, the act of healing such a serious wound left Sherlock feeling weak and in need of a long recovery process. When John turned back around Sherlock was pale (paler than normal) and he was shaking.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
